Acne. Mosquito bites. Dirty finger nails. Frizzy hair. Chapped lips. Dry skin. Sweat. Added cellulite do to an excess of rice, potatoes, and oreos.
I can neither confirm nor deny that I have been suffering from the above conditions since I have been in India.
And I have a confession to make: It bothers me. I don't like the added bumps, the dry skin, and the fact that I can't really wear make up because I will sweat it off within five minutes. Even though monsoon season is now upon us, it is still very hot. My clothes are less than fashionable, my hair is in a pony tail, and I've been wearing the same shoes every day. Please understand, I am not saying all this to complain. Rather, I am sharing with you my struggles. I am being honest. I am sharing my heart (and please, no emails telling me how beautiful I am and God made me special... that is not what this is about).
I have always struggled with self esteem issues. Maybe you can relate to the feeling of never really being comfortable in your own skin. The fuzzy hair and stained teeth didn't really help me growing up. I always wanted to be my older cousins... beautiful, loved by everyone, straight hair. I couldn't wait until I was older and I could finally wear better clothes, and um, mature. Of course, I had friends and family tell me I was beautiful, but you know it doesn't matter how many people tell you. Knowing and believing are two very different things. I devoured fashion magazines that told me to mix prints, avoid prints, wear bright colors, black is now in, pink is now the new black, avoid carbs, eat carbs, embrace the natural look, wear more eyeliner, blah, blah, blah.
For me, beauty has been a process... actually more like a roller coaster, but nevertheless a process. I had braces in middle school and my stained teeth were bleached. I finally stopped wearing these awful green overalls when I entered high school. In college, I discovered the diffuser, so my frizzy hair could now be managed. Now, post college, I am awaiting my next beauty break through... but I just might have it.
I think it takes being pulled from my comfort zone to truly realize just how dependent I am on things to make myself feel beautiful. In America, I am able to seek solace in eyeliner, and I have foundation to cover the blemishes. My hair is decent. My clothes match, and I have jewelry to accessorize. When I scratch my skin, my nails are not black underneath. I am presentable. I can hide my insecurities behind lipgloss and mascara.
I can't do that here. I think what bothers me more than anything is the fact that I have nothing to hide behind. My face is bare (and sometimes looks a little dehydrated). My feet are dirty. My pants are big enough for three people and do little to enhance my figure (Pants here are not One size fits all... instead, they are One size fits everyone you can possibly put in them).
Today, I sat on the concrete floor of the Evening Care Center in my Indian clothes, muddy from the monsoon rains and hot. My hair is disheveled and has not been brushed all day. My acne... let's just not even go there. I am removed from my comfort zone in every possible way.
And yet, I have never felt more beautiful. In fact, these are the times, as crazy as it seems, when I actually feel like my skin and I fit perfectly together.
When my little five year old is genuinely excited to see me.
When another little girl showers my cheeks with kisses.
When I am covered in spit up and in desperate need of a shower, yet she is still in my arms letting me rock her to sleep.
When my group of boys can't wait to sing the Coconut Song ("The fruit of the Spirit's not a coconut...")
When my baby boy puts his forehead against mine and squeals.
When the former pr*stituted woman opens the door of her home to me.
When I share oreos after church with my ice cream kids.
When I hold my daughter as she is released from my arms into the arms of Jesus.
When I am walking through hell and seeing glimpses of heaven.
When I am dirty, tired, feeling a little nauseous, and have been in the sun too long, but I am still singing and dancing with all my smiling brown faces....
When it's not about me.
Because following Christ means taking everything I hold on to... all my material possessions that define who I am... and throwing them away. Because when I, as a fallen human being, am completely emptied of myself and allow Him to shine through me, then I become everything I was meant to be... a reflection of Him.
One of my favorite quotes comes from the movie Little Women, in which Marmee is speaking to her oldest daughter Meg. She says, "My dear, if you feel that your value lies in being merely decorative, then someday that may be all you really are."
I don't know about you, but I don't want to be remembered as someone who is "merely decorative", focused only on my outward appearance, so much to the point that I neglect those I am purposed to love.
But I think I beginning to discover a precious secret... something counter cultural. Beauty is not found when I am looking at myself. Instead, it is found when my heart is turned towards Him, and He then turns it towards others. It will never be found standing up straight... rather, on my knees, bathing the feet of the little girl who lives in garbage.
Beauty... real and lasting beauty... is only found when my heart is being poured out for my King, and in those precious moments, it's not about me. Because really, in my broken and sinful heart, there is nothing genuinely beautiful about me. The only good in me comes from Jesus Christ. He is the ultimate definition of beauty, and my prayer is to be His reflection.
My advice to you: You don't have to come to India (although it really is fabulous and you should be here). You don't have to forego all make up completely and walk around in baggy clothes, although God likes to use those situations to get my attention.
Instead, let your arms wrap around the shoulders of those around you in need. And get dirty.
I can neither confirm nor deny that I have been suffering from the above conditions since I have been in India.
And I have a confession to make: It bothers me. I don't like the added bumps, the dry skin, and the fact that I can't really wear make up because I will sweat it off within five minutes. Even though monsoon season is now upon us, it is still very hot. My clothes are less than fashionable, my hair is in a pony tail, and I've been wearing the same shoes every day. Please understand, I am not saying all this to complain. Rather, I am sharing with you my struggles. I am being honest. I am sharing my heart (and please, no emails telling me how beautiful I am and God made me special... that is not what this is about).
I have always struggled with self esteem issues. Maybe you can relate to the feeling of never really being comfortable in your own skin. The fuzzy hair and stained teeth didn't really help me growing up. I always wanted to be my older cousins... beautiful, loved by everyone, straight hair. I couldn't wait until I was older and I could finally wear better clothes, and um, mature. Of course, I had friends and family tell me I was beautiful, but you know it doesn't matter how many people tell you. Knowing and believing are two very different things. I devoured fashion magazines that told me to mix prints, avoid prints, wear bright colors, black is now in, pink is now the new black, avoid carbs, eat carbs, embrace the natural look, wear more eyeliner, blah, blah, blah.
For me, beauty has been a process... actually more like a roller coaster, but nevertheless a process. I had braces in middle school and my stained teeth were bleached. I finally stopped wearing these awful green overalls when I entered high school. In college, I discovered the diffuser, so my frizzy hair could now be managed. Now, post college, I am awaiting my next beauty break through... but I just might have it.
I think it takes being pulled from my comfort zone to truly realize just how dependent I am on things to make myself feel beautiful. In America, I am able to seek solace in eyeliner, and I have foundation to cover the blemishes. My hair is decent. My clothes match, and I have jewelry to accessorize. When I scratch my skin, my nails are not black underneath. I am presentable. I can hide my insecurities behind lipgloss and mascara.
I can't do that here. I think what bothers me more than anything is the fact that I have nothing to hide behind. My face is bare (and sometimes looks a little dehydrated). My feet are dirty. My pants are big enough for three people and do little to enhance my figure (Pants here are not One size fits all... instead, they are One size fits everyone you can possibly put in them).
Today, I sat on the concrete floor of the Evening Care Center in my Indian clothes, muddy from the monsoon rains and hot. My hair is disheveled and has not been brushed all day. My acne... let's just not even go there. I am removed from my comfort zone in every possible way.
And yet, I have never felt more beautiful. In fact, these are the times, as crazy as it seems, when I actually feel like my skin and I fit perfectly together.
When my little five year old is genuinely excited to see me.
When another little girl showers my cheeks with kisses.
When I am covered in spit up and in desperate need of a shower, yet she is still in my arms letting me rock her to sleep.
When my group of boys can't wait to sing the Coconut Song ("The fruit of the Spirit's not a coconut...")
When my baby boy puts his forehead against mine and squeals.
When the former pr*stituted woman opens the door of her home to me.
When I share oreos after church with my ice cream kids.
When I hold my daughter as she is released from my arms into the arms of Jesus.
When I am walking through hell and seeing glimpses of heaven.
When I am dirty, tired, feeling a little nauseous, and have been in the sun too long, but I am still singing and dancing with all my smiling brown faces....
When it's not about me.
Because following Christ means taking everything I hold on to... all my material possessions that define who I am... and throwing them away. Because when I, as a fallen human being, am completely emptied of myself and allow Him to shine through me, then I become everything I was meant to be... a reflection of Him.
One of my favorite quotes comes from the movie Little Women, in which Marmee is speaking to her oldest daughter Meg. She says, "My dear, if you feel that your value lies in being merely decorative, then someday that may be all you really are."
I don't know about you, but I don't want to be remembered as someone who is "merely decorative", focused only on my outward appearance, so much to the point that I neglect those I am purposed to love.
But I think I beginning to discover a precious secret... something counter cultural. Beauty is not found when I am looking at myself. Instead, it is found when my heart is turned towards Him, and He then turns it towards others. It will never be found standing up straight... rather, on my knees, bathing the feet of the little girl who lives in garbage.
Beauty... real and lasting beauty... is only found when my heart is being poured out for my King, and in those precious moments, it's not about me. Because really, in my broken and sinful heart, there is nothing genuinely beautiful about me. The only good in me comes from Jesus Christ. He is the ultimate definition of beauty, and my prayer is to be His reflection.
My advice to you: You don't have to come to India (although it really is fabulous and you should be here). You don't have to forego all make up completely and walk around in baggy clothes, although God likes to use those situations to get my attention.
Instead, let your arms wrap around the shoulders of those around you in need. And get dirty.
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